


Obses

by madasthesea



Series: Fure [3]
Category: The Queen's Thief - Megan Whalen Turner
Genre: F/M, Gen, Hostage Situation, very mild injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-12 13:08:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4480313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madasthesea/pseuds/madasthesea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A baron's son takes it upon himself to rid his country of the goat-footed king.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Obses

“Please, put it down,” she said please, but every syllable rang with authority.

The entire king’s guard was circled around her, firearms loaded and swords drawn. In the center of the circle, stood the king. With a five inch long knife at his throat. The minor baron’s son who was holding it there laughed and shook his head.

“I’m doing this _whole country_ a favor, Your Majesty. This goat-foot,” he shook the king bodily, the knife skipping dangerously close to his throat, “is playing all of you!”

Attolia clenched her jaw in anger. Costis, visibly shaking directly behind the king, made eye contact with her over his shoulder. He looked desperate, his sword unsheathed and ready. The king, for his part, looked fairly unconcerned.

“He’s a thief!” He yelled, looking at everyone in disbelief. His voice dropped, “And he got a thief’s punishment.” He grabbed the king’s right wrist, so tight Eugenides’ face paled in pain, and forced the gleaming hook up. Slowly, with every soldier staring in fury, he sliced a long, thin cut into the king’s cheek.

The king twisted, swearing emphatically. The baron’s son tightened his hold, the knife slipping against his throat, a red line of blood appearing. Eugenides stilled, making eye contact with the queen. Her face remained impassive.

Then suddenly, she was taking the hidden dagger against her ribs by the handle, and throwing it at the would-be assassin. There was a collective gasp among the guard, Costis took a stumbling step forward, and then the knife was in Eugenides’ left hand, plucked out of the air with ease.

A second later, the man was on the ground, a long gash on his forearm where the king had cut him, and the king himself was surrounded by his guard, Attolia standing in front of him.

“They’re fairly shallow,” she said, taking his chin in her hands and tilting it toward the light.

“It hurts,” he pouted sullenly. She rolled her eyes. Behind them, they could hear the guards drag the criminal away, with him still shouting profanities at the king.

Costis pushed his way into the circle of guards. The king laughed at his pallor, and his face visibly relaxed. Finally, the guard made way for the physician to guide the king toward his chambers, despite protests. The queen walked next to him, close enough their shoulders pressed together.

Costis thought, as he walked behind them, that he heard him whisper to her “Good aim, my love.”

 


End file.
